


Just a Moment Too Late

by ellabell



Series: Before it starts. [2]
Category: Defiance (TV)
Genre: F/F, Whitewater
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 07:18:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellabell/pseuds/ellabell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stahma had been told that the world was hers.  Things are different now. </p><p>Since the show hasn't even aired yet, this is all speculative. Based off quotes from interviews, the promos / behind the scenes, the first 14 minutes, and a lot of guesswork.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Moment Too Late

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr. I meant to leave it at the first fic, but this one demanded to be written too. The show is still 3 days away from airing. 
> 
> I'm also fairly convinced my brain demanded this was written just so that I could use the one Castithan word that I learned from twitter.

Stahma had been told that the world was hers.

Of course, that had been a different world than the one that she in now, but the sentiment remained.  The lines of the noble ran deep in her blood.  Courtiers-elite bowed to her wishes and will.  Even as a child, before she knew the danger her planet and species was in, she knew her place.  She didn’t play with the children from the lower _liros_.  Even those from her own worshipped her. 

And she revelled in it.  Mostly.  Until she was old enough to realize what her true place in society was, that with her station came responsibilities, and duty, and rules… and conformity.

And now…

This wasn’t where she was from, though Castithans here clung to their rituals and cultures with fervour, holding onto the all the parts of _home_ that they could.  So while she was still elite, still worshipped amongst her own kind — she was no longer given the world on a pedestal. 

Her mind was in constant state of argument with itself.  She deserved their adoration, yet she abhorred it.  She was born into royalty, but yearned for freedom.  She understood that there were sacrifices to her own happiness that she was forced to make, but did everything she could to deter the future that had been set up for her.

And yet, standing there, in the crowd at the town center, surrounded by those that she would have never deigned to look at never mind associate with, she had never felt so hopeful.

The mayor was speaking now and Stahma found herself entranced by the woman’s words.  She stood staring, without moving, without blinking, hardly without breathing, and let her words wash over her.  “For Defiance,” she whispered while the rest of the townsfolk yelled it, and she took the word to heart.

***

As Stahma followed the other woman into the night, she replayed the woman’s words and remembered her own first act of defiance – that first time that she set foot on the ark.  That feeling that maybe, just maybe, they would begin to make a new world.

She had been promised to another family, one that was adored, that was _almost_ the same standing as hers (as none could ever truly match.)  Their children would have been worshipped just as she had been, and her daughters would have received her same fate. 

That her intended had never awoken from the infinite journey, well, _that_ had been her first act of rebellion.  Of her own defiance of the world that she had been born into.  That’s when she realized how much power was dealt in secret, how easy it was to put on the serene mask and get people to do what she wanted.

But the mayor… somehow she saw past her defences.  She had catalogued her voice and tone, her word choice, her _everything_ , and it was quite annoying.  How was Stahma supposed to use her words to control her, when the mayor seemed to already know what she wanted before _she_ did?

The mayor had led her into a dark alley and when she whirled around to face her, Stahma knew she was losing her touch.  She should have been silent.  She should have been unnoticed, but Amanda – no, the _mayor_ , Stahma reminded herself – was attuned.

Or maybe not.  Stahma had switched to English in her head and was giving the speech that she had practiced before.  Carefully chosen words, a steady voice, and the inflection she had observed that the humans enjoyed, but while Stahma tried to spin her web, tried to bend the woman’s will – she knew that she was not getting through.

The mayor despised her husband, though, and Stahma grasped for a different approach.  She watched the other woman struggle to understand, and in the absence of a precisely planned argument, her words started to strike a little too close to the truth she was always trying to hide.  “…that I am more than husband and my caste should suggest.”

Amanda, no, the _mayor_ , was infuriating.  Stahma knew of her power over men.  Sex was used transactionally in her culture, something that the humans found unseemly, but she had still found it useful in the past.  But the mayor –

 _No._  The voice her head changed directions.  _Amanda._

Stahma trailed off and for the first time, actually thought about all their previous interactions.  Stahma had never purposely used sex against her in all her manipulations; she only sought to keep her off balance.  Using sex on a simple human woman was beneath her.  She had never actually amused the thought.

And; yet, now that she had, it was all she could think of.  Almost involuntarily, she took a step forward and breathed in slowly through her nose.  Oh… _oh._

She had always thought that her infatuation with the mayor was a form of jealousy – that the inferior human could run for public office, could marry or date whomever she wanted, that she had a real job, and a real identity outside of just female or wife.  But the realization that the intoxicating feeling she got whenever they crossed paths…

She had thought that Amanda avoided her because she knew her place in the social structure, that approaching Stahma was above her station.  But if this was the true reason…

Stahma had stopped talking now and only stared back at the other woman now filling her senses, and though she struggled to get back to her task and her mission, her body betrayed her.  She could feel her lungs expanding, and her eyes widening, and when the other woman licked her lips, had Stahma any less restraint, she would have whimpered.

She began to speak again – whatever words were coming out of her mouth were beyond her control, she only needed to use them to distract, and her mind raced with new possibilities.  She had been told that the female human’s anatomy was similar to her own, and as her heart raced she imagined unzipping her ever-present leather jacket, seeing the pale skin that almost matched her own but so much more eager to blush, and running her hands over the softer skin…

Her mind continued slowly undressing Amanda in her mind, discovering what made the human woman twitch and hum, imagining her nimble fingers finally reaching her core, her…

And she was pulled out of her fantasy in search for a word that she had never quite learned to pronounce, so she substituted it in her own tongue instead: _jemilo…_  and she shouldn’t have just used the word tongue.  _Language_ she substituted, but her mind, no, her _body_ had already reacted to the suggestion, and she struggled to stay out of the fantasy.

Amanda was focused now on her lips, and Stahma simply stared back, unwilling to continue talking as her voice would betray her.  Instead, as Amanda pulled herself back to attention, Stahma stayed silent but failed at staying still, and a muscle contracted in her cheek, her lips moving into what she hoped was just an amused smile.

A noise startled them both from outside the alley, and Stahma was happy for the distraction.  She played her earlier involuntary smile as deliberate, and used the remaining silence to command her body to obey her, but then Amanda let out a breath and the force at which the pheromones hit her was breathtaking.

“Until our paths cross again,” Amanda finally uttered before she suddenly turned away, much more composed than Stahma thought she’d be if she had to speak.  Or move.

It was only when Amanda reached the end of the alley and paused in the gentle streetlight that Stahma felt like she was able to breathe again.  She continued to stare at the other woman, trying to capture the image in her memory before Amanda finally stepped out of view.

Because she was _Amanda_ , now, not just the mayor.

And in the quiet darkness that surrounded her, Stahma realized that she may have come to the realization just a moment too late.

**Author's Note:**

> Watch the show. Play the game. Read the porn. 
> 
> ...wait, what?


End file.
